


Misleading Magic: Mingling Singles Edition

by KetamineKendra, SolLess (xangedechux)



Series: Apartments & Amoré [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Artist Steve Rogers, Author knows nothing about high end clothing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Discrimination, Dragons, Drinking to Cope, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Excessive Drinking, Fae & Fairies, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Gucci is the high end brand, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, I got a bottle of tequila I've been saving for you, Inspired by Friends (TV), Like a Good Neighbor Peter is There, Magic, Monsters, No Scars Wade Wilson, Old-Fashioned Steve Rogers, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Plants, Previously on The Golden Girls, Racism, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Speciesism, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve Rogers isn't Racist but, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The pg+ stuff is hinted at for a reason, There is a lot of drinking, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tony Stark Has Issues, Vampires, Wade Wilson is a Good Bro, We aren't Racist but, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:46:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 18,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KetamineKendra/pseuds/KetamineKendra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xangedechux/pseuds/SolLess
Summary: Our boys have been hiding in fish bowls for years. They keep to themselves, go out when only absolutely necessary, and they keep their circles tight. But really, how easy can it be to keep to yourself when you’ve got these 5 cramped in closer quarters than should be legal?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Wade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Apartments & Amoré [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730374
Comments: 166
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, ECT. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_April 29, 2020_

Wade watched out his peephole with one eye, listening to the tick of his clock on the wall. It was a cute glittery Hello Kitty clock, but he'd taken the glass out and colored on the face in permanent marker. Right now it was in the purple section, with a sun and a mailbox drawn in. He checked the mirror, making sure he looked okay. His hair was a mess, but he happened to think the sparkly unicorn shirt was a fantastic choice, the silver of the shirt was itchy, but it looked flawless against his skin. It was complemented by ripped up jeans that were a tad too short, popping up above the top of his combat boots. Over it all, he tossed the handmade _sarape_ , red and black, making sure it covered his head and arms. "Operation Make-Bubblebutt-Notice-Me is a go. Get out there, you big lug." 

He left his apartment, heading down the stairs to the mailboxes. And there he was. The light of his life, the banginest booty that ever banged, the cutest cutie to ever cute, the scrumdidliumptious Babe himself. "Petey-Pie!" 

Peter looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Good morning, Wade." He put his key into the lock of his mailbox. "How are you?" 

"Senpai noticed me!" He squealed. 

Ever since the first second he had laid eyes on the gorgeous man that was Peter, he'd thought he was luminous. That shouldn't really be a good thing, but the heart wants what it wants. He was perfection personified, elegance electrified, beauty in bloom. 

Raising a brow at him, Peter closed his mailbox again. "Am I in your way?" He stepped back from the mailboxes, allowing Wade space to get to his own. "I didn't realize we had the same mail schedule, but this is the third day this week we've been here at the same time."

Wade tried to nonchalantly lean against the wall, but the _sarape_ made him slip, which made him slide back. He totally saved it, though. It definitely for sure just looked like he was leaned back and lounging. Except now his crotch was like front and center. He wasn't exactly against that, but maybe it was too much? 

On the other hand, he'd been trying to seduce Peter - in a romantic way! He didn't just want to wham, bam, thank you ma'am him! He wanted snuggles, too! And fights over the blankets and breakfast in bed. Which he would cook for Peter before taking a blood bag to lay beside him with. But he'd been trying to get his attention for like six thousand years. Okay, it was actually only 400 days - exactly, he was counting - but the only progress he'd seemed to make was that Peter knew his name and no longer looked at him like he was crazy when he saw him. Maybe that was bad? Wade was definitely insane, so _shouldn't_ Peter look at him like he was crazy? Wait. What was the question? "Huh?" 

Peter laughed and opened the door into the lobby. "I'll see you around, Wade." 

Wade, the complete lunatic that he was, just nodded and watched him go. "What a magnificent creature." He was going to win him over somehow, he just hadn't figure out how yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, ECT. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_April 29, 2020_

Peter had been expecting Wade's appearance. It was impossible to get to his age and not recognize when someone was interested in him. He'd perfected it when it was all subtlety, about tilted heads and the angle of a handkerchief in a pocket. For as subtle as Wade had been, he'd practically shouted it. 

At first, of course, he hadn't been sure. A vampire being so blatantly obvious about his interest? To a fae, no less? He'd been sure it was some kind of trick. But then he'd watched, observed. Wade wasn't playing a trick on him. He was comically bad at hiding his thoughts, actually. So, it wasn't a trick. 

It had been flattering. It still was. Somewhere in the last few months, it had grown flustering too. Wade wore completely ridiculous things, he'd seen him in a floppy black sun hat with a polka dot scarf, walking to the mailboxes with a floor length pink fuzzy robe and slippers that looked like dinosaur feet. But he still noticed how strong his shoulders were, how beautiful his eyes. 

"Petey-Pie!" 

Stars help him, he even liked the atrocious nicknames the man gave him. His smile was far too big, so he tamed it a bit before he turned to him. "Good morning, Wade. How are you?" 

He never got an answer. Just Wade's squeal. "Senpai noticed me!" 

It was impossible for him to not see how adorable Wade was. He just couldn't let him know he thought so, because it would give up the game. In the name of that game, he widened his eyes just a touch. "Am I in your way? I didn't realize we had the same mail schedule, but this is the third day this week we've been here at the same time." 

Unfortunately, this didn't turn out to be one of the times they actually conversed. It maybe could have been, but when Wade slipped and ended up gifting him with an excellent view of his package, it was Peter's turn to trip over his own tongue. He mumbled something, he didn't know what, and had to excuse himself. 

Back in his own apartment, Peter ran his hands over his too warm face and his giant smile. It was too much. To calm himself down, he pressed his face into the leaves of his biggest spider plant that hung in the window of his living room, breathing in the smell of happy plants and healthy dirt. "He's so cute, Gwen. I can't even handle him most of the time." Finally, Gwen reminded him that it was watering day so he went to fill his can. She was right, he couldn't let Wade's wonderful face distract him from important things.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, ECT. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, yall.   
> Guess what?   
> We've officially finished writing this section so that means twice weekly posting while we write the next! 
> 
> Like, yeah, I know, who wouldn't want to just binge it all in one go. But we can't post the entire section because then it'll be even longer before you get the next one. This way, it's nice and timed out. :D

_April 30, 2020_

Steve sat at his dining room table, looking at the page of the notebook in front of him. The page was absolutely full of a list of things, some scratched out and some still legible. He picked up the blue pen beside it and scratched off another, ‘oranges’. Then, he stood up and moved to his kitchen. On top of the fridge, there were a handful of nice wicker baskets. He grabbed the top one and set it on his counter, then filled it with the oranges he’d bought at the store the day before. Blood oranges, mandarins, and valencias. No navel oranges for Tony, of course. Those were the bottom of the barrel and highly inappropriate for his purposes.

Honestly, he wasn’t perfectly sure how to get what he wanted. Steve was no stranger to wooing with gifts, of course. That had been a practice for a very, very long time. Even longer than his very long life. For this century, though, he wasn’t sure how to do it. Before, it was complicated flower arrangements, or the corpse of a very large animal. None of those were appropriate now. Mostly because Tony wasn’t a carnivore, nor a fifteenth century maiden. No, Tony was… Well, he was Tony. He was gorgeous and kind of sassy and a bit of a mess. Intriguing in his thoughts, worrisome in his little experiments. The perfect height for kissing. 

“Cut it out, Steve.” He sighed and then shook his head. He didn’t know a whole lot about the man. He had no idea what kind of witch he was. He wasn’t bleached out like the spiritual witches tended to be, and he had tattoos, but they seemed to only be on his arms. Steve wasn’t knowledgeable enough about that particular subject to know if they were purely aesthetic or if they were used in his magic. They moved, but with Tony, he figured it could still go either way. 

So, he was wooing him with gifts, at least he was trying to. He just had no idea what combination would be the right one to get him to agree. He’d given him books on magic, food, drawings, everything he could think of. And all it got him was a slight smile when they saw each other in the hallway, and a return basket outside his door. 

With the oranges arranged artfully in the basket, he picked it up and headed out to the hallway and then up the stairs. It was just after he passed the halfway point when he heard a deep boom, strong enough that he felt the building tremble under his feet. The rest of the trip up the stairs was finished in one giant leap, and then he was pounding on the door. “Tony! Tony! Are you okay? What’s happening?” All his strength didn’t even have the door shaking, it was magicked so well. Tony was obviously a very strong witch. If he wanted, Steve could break the magic on it and break the door down anyway, but he figured he should at least give Tony a chance to answer him. 

Just as he was about to do so, though, the door opened. Tony opened it, looking more than just disheveled. The man’s hair was standing back from his face, and he had the marks of goggles around his eyes, easily visible because the rest of his face and chest were covered in a horrific red soot. His hand not on the door was holding a beaker, full of some thick red liquid that was just a slightly different shade than the soot on his face. “Totally fine, Beefcake. Just measured something a little wrong.” 

“Well, if you’re sure.” Steve really wasn’t sure he believed him, but what was he supposed to do? “Here.” He pushed the basket at him, catching it when Tony seemed torn between taking it and keeping hold of his beaker. Finally, he let go of the door and took the basket in one hand. “I just was. Well, you know.” Now, embarrassed, Steve started backing toward the stairs again. “I’ll see you around.” 

Tony looked at the basket for a moment and then up into Steve’s face. “Thank you?” 

Steve smiled and then headed down the stairs. Maybe this was a success?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, ECT. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_April 30, 2020_

Tony sighed as he sorted through the website he was on. He hated this. He didn’t know why he was doing it. Well, he did. Steve had given him oranges, which were surprisingly delicious, and so now he had to give him a gift back. Like every other time before. If he would have known how this would all turn out, he never would have given Steve the damn basket in the first place. Of course, he’d lose one of his workrooms if that were the case, and cause a lot of questions and likely problems with RhodeyBear if that were the case. “Fine. I guess it’s all fine.” He’d just have to suck it up and give him something back. 

Pepper had told him this was important. When people were nice to him, he had to be nice back. He couldn’t pull his sarcastic disappearing act, because he ‘needed friends’. “Beh.” 

There was burn cream already on its way. That had nothing to do with Steve, really. It was him. He didn’t feel like making his own, which would have to steep for days anyway, so he’d ordered some. His face, now cleaned of soot, was red. He’d hoped it was a dying effect from the soot, but the way it felt, he was pretty sure it was a first degree burn. Which was a pain. 

Now, though, he was looking at canvases. He’d seen the paintings in Steve’s apartment, and the little studio he had set up in his living room. There were also the amazing drawings he’d received in his little gift baskets. Clearly, Steve was an artist. So he needed excellent supplies. He wasn’t going to look into paints, because he felt like that was a whole world he didn’t have time to delve into. But he’d done his research and he’d found what all the art blogs called the very best canvases. He had four in his cart, all different sizes. Was that enough? 

For a moment, his mind went in an entirely different direction. He wondered how Steve would paint them together? Would it be cute, just them holding hands or a soft kiss? Or would he be erotic? Steve curled around his back, his (clearly it has to be) massive cock buried inside his ass? 

“Might as well give him a few extra. He can use them.” He added six more canvases and then checked out. They’d be delivered tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops. This was suppose to be out like 12+ hours ago. :/


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, ECT. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost halfway done with the next section, so we're definitely working our butts off.

_April 30, 2020_

Bucky hadn’t had a great day. When he’d been working out, something had made him jump, causing him to drop the thirty pound dumbbell he’d been doing reps with. 

Right. On. His. Phone. 

Clearly, the thing got smashed and wasn’t even slightly workable anymore. So he’d been off to the phone store to get a new one. Well, when he’d paid and booted it all up, it turned out that he had somehow been saving all his contacts to his phone, instead of to his email or anything else that it was possible to transfer them over with. The only contacts he had were all email addresses from his various jobs, which he didn’t need anymore. 

He’d walked home, a gallon of vodka in his hand. Even though it was illegal, he took drinks of it as he walked, and he managed to get enough of them that he had a pretty decent buzz when he got home. When he’d knocked on Wade’s door, he hadn’t gotten any response, so he shuffled his way home to dig through all his stuff, trying to find the ancient rolodex he knew he still had. Bucky grumbled when he found it, pulling up Wade’s number. It had changed a bunch, so there were at least six different crossed out numbers and two that weren’t. Of course, Wade had been the one to fill them in so he had to try to decipher the chicken scratch that was his friends writing, hoping like hell that he got it right. “Is that a four? A nine? Damn it, Wade.” 

The first two tries ended up with a no service message, so he drank a bit more of his vodka. By the time he had managed to type in a number that led to a ringing tone, the vodka was almost gone and he was finally drunk. The small change in sound that meant someone had answered was all he needed. “Wade, man. I need you to bring me some more booze. I’m so drunk, but you know it’ll wear off before I have time to properly enjoy it.” He licked his lips. “Oo, and some water. Like that good shit. Fiji. With the little waterfall in the back? You know what that reminds me of? You remember that bridge? The one with the, the, the birds? That long, shaky ass bridge.” Bucky laughed a little. “That thing was terrifying to be on, remember? They only had two boards down the middle to walk on and some old ass ropes, but the island was small and far off from all the fuckin' _people_. That island cliff edge was a perfect drinking spot… we got drunk as skunks that night.” He got up off the floor and lost his balance, slamming into the wall. “We were there because Guinness wouldn’t let you in, the rat bastards. Didn’t give a shit about us being veterans. Just got pissed that a vampire would even dare to try to get in there.” He snorted. “I haven’t drank Guinness since that night, after we stole those kegs.” Bucky laughed again, almost too loud for the occasion. “Remember dropping that one? Slipped right off the side and we just watched it go down.” 

“So, this bridge. Was it over water? Was the island completely separate from the mainland?” 

“Who is this?!” Bucky almost had a heart attack. That was _not_ Wade’s voice. Come to think of it, he should have realized he wasn’t talking to Wade when he got out more than three sentences without being interrupted. 

“Oh. It’s Steve.” Now that the name had been said, he could place it. They hadn’t actually spoken, but he’d heard him talking to Tony before. It was a nice voice, a little smokey almost, like his scent.

Bucky blinked for a second. “Well, Steve. Can you bring me more booze?” 

Steve laughed a little. “Not Guinness?” 

“Hell no.” Bucky shook his head and then dropped into his chair. Steve damn well better pull through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've noticed that drinking is like a huge part of this thing and I'd like to apologize. We in no way recommend drinking all the time, but it's just such an excellent plot point.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_May 1, 2020_

Wade didn’t have to sleep during the day, but he tried to sleep during the earliest of it anyway, both for the light and to avoid the most frequent times the voices in his head acted up. So, this morning, he’d gone to sleep at three, planning to get up around one or so to start with his campaign on Peter. 

Instead, his blankets were ripped from him, and he was faced with an oddly pale Bucky, eyes glowing a deep, straight from the _Shifter Factoids_ red. “What the fuck?” Wade barely got the words out before he was rudely shoved off the bed and onto the floor. 

“Breakfast. Now.” 

Bucky’s voice brooked no argument, so, grumbling, Wade got off the floor and made his way to the kitchen. They’d been friends for decades, nearly a century. Wade was more than capable of telling what his moods were. Right now, this was an ‘I’m seconds away from ripping your limbs off and seeing how long it takes for them to grow back.’ [They would, but it was a pain.](It's easier just to go along with it.) “Whatchu lookin’ to have, sugar plum?” 

“Pancakes. Coffee. Bacon.” 

His voice was even rougher than usual, leading Wade to cooking breakfast by the small light above the stove. Wade knew a hungover Bucky when he saw one, and it was not the time to be asking questions and all that. At least not until he’d eaten and gotten some coffee. The clock on his stove said 4:02 AM and he glanced back at his friend, who sat at the kitchen counter with his head in his hands. He might be a bit mouthy, and only vaguely caring of boundaries, but he figured this could wait. 

It waited until Wade dropped a plate in front of Bucky. It had six monstrous pancakes on it, each one lovingly smothered in butter and syrup, an entire package of bacon - minus the two pieces Wade had taken for himself - and a giant mug of coffee sat beside it. “So. Having a bad day? What happened?”

Bucky spoke around the maple dripping pancake in his mouth. “I had a gallon of tequila with a stranger because you have shit handwriting.” 

Well, he couldn’t deny that. His handwriting _was_ shit. “Wanna deal with it like usual?” [Yes pleeease!]

“How else?” (Fuck yeeeeah) At least, that’s what Wade thought he’d said, since his mouth was full at the time. 

Two hours later, Wade huddled in his giant black hoodie with the leather driving gloves, just the top of his head peeking out over the hood of the car. A huge boom echoed through the area, sending birds flying, while Bucky and him laughed. “The cannon works great! I bet we could make it go even further!” They both smelled like gunpowder, and Wade was missing an eyebrow, but Bucky was smiling now. 

Yeah, it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact - I got the idea for this chapter when my husband tried to show me clips from Jackass.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, ECT. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's looking like the twice a week posting schedule will continue through the next section, as well, considering I finished writing it last night. :]

_May 2, 2020_

Peter sorted through his mail, tossing the junk directly into the trash can in the corner. Interestingly enough, there was already a bin in the opposite corner with magazines. Those were for Tony, of course. 

Looking down, he saw a white envelope on the ground. Peter bent to pick it up, thinking he'd dropped his own mail. Instead, when he turned it over, it said James Barnes. Well, that sounded familiar. The address said it was for apartment 31, which was right next to him. "Like a good neighbor, Peter is there." He sang it as he stepped out of the mail room and to the stairs. 

When he knocked on the door, he felt an unpleasant jolt when he saw inside the apartment past his neighbor. It was dark, so dark, and it smelled musty, like it had been days since he'd opened a window. Peter fixed a smile on his face and handed him the letter. "You must have dropped this earlier."

James raised his eyebrow and looked at it before looking back up at Peter. The fae saw that his hand was covered in small white scarred lines, which struck him as odd. "Thanks." He grunted the word out and then went to shut the door, but Peter stopped him with a hand on the door. 

Being fae, he was stronger than he looked and managed it. Smile still fixed on his face, though it felt more and more brittle with every passing second, he nodded into his apartment. "If you need some lamps or flowers or anything, I live right next to you, so you know. Just knock on the door and I can hook you up. No problems."

After that, he wasn’t sure what answer he got. It might have just been a grunt, half shut off by the door closing in his face. With no one to see him, he closed his eyes and let the smile fall off his face. He walked down the hall, toward his own door, the back of his eyes overlaid with the image of a beautiful garden. By the time he made it to his door, hand on the doorknob, the memory had gone further. His glamour fell away, revealing him as what he was. Humans found him, burned his garden to a crisp. Took him in. He could have killed them, but he didn’t want to be hunted down like an animal. He’d been young then, mistakenly believing he could follow the rules and get along with them. He’d let them put him in a cell. 

Dark. Dank. Musty. No light, no plants, no moving air. So full of misery that he felt like he’d choke on it. His companion, a drunk human, smelled awful and there was no getting away from him. 

The memory made Peter shiver. Trying to push it out of his mind, he turned the doorknob. It didn’t turn. A quick pat over his pockets revealed he didn’t have his keys on him. He sighed, leaning his forehead against the dead wood of his door. He needed to get inside, surround himself with the love of his plants.   
After just one more second of quiet, he swallowed down the horrible feelings the memories had brought up. Then, he fixed another smile on his face and went to go talk to James again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_May 2, 2020_

Bucky had had another bad day. Nightmares had plagued him, leaving him feeling like crawling into a deep dark cave. So every curtain was drawn in his apartment, the lights all off. He’d been just sitting in the dark in his chair when he heard the knock on his door. Talking to his neighbor, the fae, had just made him feel worse. The smell of his bright, birthful magic reminded Bucky of another fae from a long time ago, a little girl, emaciated and too thin. He’d seen her steal from a cart in the market, and he’d hoped she’d get away with it. Clearly, she was too young to use her magic to grow her own food. 

He’d finally gotten the man to leave, so he could go back to his chair after dropping the mail in the general direction of his kitchen counter. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling his fingernails stretch and grow until they were claws, scratching shallow cuts across his scalp. The human had caught her, had grabbed her and smacked her over and over again. Bucky had lost it, growling and rushing over. Half wolf, he’d beaten the man in a rage. And then, he’d felt a stone hit his temple. Turning, he’d seen all the humans in the market grabbing stones, throwing them at him. Running, he hadn’t cared much. He’d been planning to move onto a new place already. Then, the stone that had hurt the worst had come, a soft smack across his shoulder. Glancing back, it had been the little fae girl, lip still bloody, that had thrown it. 

Another knock on the door had him growling and ripping the door open hard enough to hear the hinges groan. “What?!”

It was the fae again. He blinked at Bucky, glanced at the scars on his hand, then back to him, his smile faltering. “Um. I accidentally locked myself out of my apartment. I was just wondering if I could climb out on your balcony?” 

“Why don’t you go talk to the damn landlord? Rhodey is always home on Saturdays.” Like hell was Bucky allowing someone to climb off a third story balcony. Their apartments weren’t big, but they were more than big enough to make the distance between his balcony and the fae’s too long to travel. He’d have to be part spider to climb across the building, even if he was aiming for his bedroom window and not his own balcony. 

The fae shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t want to bother him over something like that. Besides, then I’d have to pay the twenty dollar fee.” 

That was written into their leases, he knew. Every time Rhodey had to open the doors for them, he’d charge them money. It was probably because he was lazy, since the fee wasn’t that much, but if the fae was so against it, he was probably pretty broke. Finally, Bucky sighed and opened the door wider. “Fine.” When the fae stepped in, Bucky could smell the anxiety on him. So, he turned on some lights. It didn’t do his messy apartment any good, but he could smell an almost instant drop in his emotions. He went to the trunk in the corner, digging through the odds and ends in it until he found what he was looking for. 

“What is that for?” The fae was getting more anxious again. 

“I’m not into watching you drop to your death on the side of the building. You’re tying this around your waist.” Bucky passed him the end of the rope. 

“I really don’t need it, James, but if it’ll make you feel better.” 

“Bucky.” Bucky tied the other end of the rope to the banister on his balcony, the door opened between them. 

“What?” The fae looked at him, his hands stilling on the rope. 

Bucky checked the security of the knot he’d tied. “No one calls me James. They call me Bucky.” 

The fae nodded. “Oh. Well, thank you, _Bucky_. I’m Peter.” 

Apparently, that was all the preparation Peter was willing to let Bucky do. Before he could check the knot around the man’s waist, he was climbing up onto the banister like he had all the room in the world. Then, he reached out to the brick wall beside them and started crawling. Bucky stared as the guy climbed like a damn spider, not even glancing down as he gripped the smallest pieces of vines to get across the short distance. The window in Peter’s bedroom opened easily under his hands, and then the man disappeared inside. Bucky started untying the knot on his balcony, then heard another knock on his door. Now who was it? 

It was Peter. “Can you untie this?” Bucky rolled his eyes and then got it off of him. Then, Peter disappeared into his own apartment again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_May 3, 2020_

Steve had just left his apartment, aiming to go to the grocery store and pick up something nice to give to Tony, when he heard grunting coming from the stairs. He stepped out and found his neighbor, the fae, trying to get what could only be explained as a miniature tree up the stairs on a dolly. It was miniature because it was only five feet tall, but it was clearly heavy. Fae were stronger than they looked and this one was still struggling. “Here, I can help you.” He came forward and pulled the handle to himself. “You brace the back.” 

“Thank you. Usually plants work with me a little more, but this one is a little upset at being sold.” The fae’s voice was pleasant, not too soft or rough, not too deep or high. 

Grunting, Steve got the dolly tipped so the wheels would roll up the stairs instead of slamming into them. The fae was on the other side, bracing the tree to stop it from falling down the stairs. “I figured it was something. Fae don’t usually have trouble with their plants.” They were now on the second floor, and he had figured out the best rhythm to get it moving up without jostling the tree so much. “I met a nice fae once. Had the biggest tree house I’d ever seen and she made great Elven tea and crumpets."

They made it to their floor and he started wheeling it toward the hallway when the fae stepped in front of him, jerking the dolly from his hands. “Do you have anything to say about the fae woman that isn’t stereotypical? Something actually personal about her? Like her name, or what she looked like? Or did you just see that she was fae and didn’t look any further than that?” 

Steve had thought that the red on the fae’s face was because of the exertion, but it seemed that it was directed at him. He could see his eyes starting to change a bit as he lost control of his glamour. And, honestly, he didn’t know how to make it better. Stereotypical? She was fae. Why was it wrong to say so? “She had a cat? It talked. A gift from a witch.” 

The fae in front of him took a deep breath and then pasted a smile on. It had to be the fakest smile he’d ever seen and he’d once watched people bow to a king they hated. “That doesn’t count for much, but thank you for trying.” 

Before he could walk away, Steve raised his voice a little. “I’m Steve. What’s your name?” 

There was a moment when he was sure the fae - the neighbor? - would ignore him and walk away anyway, but he stayed. “Peter. Peter Parker.” 

Steve stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you. And I’m sorry for insulting you.” 

Peter shook his hand. “People are more than just their species, Steve. Have a good day.” He dragged his tree into his own apartment. Steve was left feeling a little off kilter and not really sure how to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, that first taste of speciesism, as tagged.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh I just am so stoked to post I decided on a random extra post.
> 
> Pss - don't tell Sol (I'll tell her myself)

_May 4, 2020_

Wade clutched this month’s issue of Vampire Vogue against his chest. “You are what makes me happy.” A picture popped in his head, of Peter’s gorgeous eyes and the way they wrinkled in the corners when he smiled. “Okay, _one_ of the things that make me happy.” As soon as he got the door open to the stairs, he had his nose stuck in his favorite magazine. “Fashionable Sun Covers? Don’t mind if I do.” (Wear your sunscreen, kids.) [I dunno. I quite like the idea of burning up in the atmosphere. Not wearing protection is a close second, right?] (WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE.)

He walked, critiquing the pages - “I’m already paler than a zombie’s ass, why does everything have to be beige?” - when he hit a very warm, very solid wall. He pulled his magazine from in front of his face and looked up, finding golden blond hair in front of his eyes. “Uhh?” [Hunk Alert!]

The blond wall turned around, revealing his neighbor. He’d seen him around, but this was the first time he was really interacting with him. The man smiled. “You live in 32 right? I’m Steve Rogers.” 

Wade blinked a little and then stuck his hand out to shake the one that was offered to him. He was very warm. “Wade. Wade Wilson.” Speaking of beige, the man was dressed like a grandpa. Didn’t he know he didn’t have to wear a button up on Saturdays? And he almost certainly didn’t need the khakis, ever. Wade barely managed to contain a sniff of disdain. He himself was dressed in fantastic jeans - there were sparkly bits on the back pockets he loved - and a form fitting red tee shirt. Over it all, he had a slick black parka, hanging around his shoulders now because he didn’t need to block the sun. 

“Vampire Vogue? I tried reading it once, but it really didn’t hook me. I thought it was rather boring.” 

With that Steve moved himself to the bottom of the list of people he liked. (Uncultured swine.) Actually, he removed himself from the list. Besides the fact that Vampire Vogue was clearly the epitome of monthly literature, it was _Vampire_ Vogue. This guy wasn’t a vampire. Wade might not be the best at identifying someone's species, hell, he isn't good at it at all, but he could always, _always_ tell another vampire. Why did this guy need to take over his space? Leave something to the vampires, since society had been taking so much from them since forever. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. Takes a certain kind of person to enjoy high fashion.” 

Steve, bless him, didn’t seem to understand the buried insult. [Oblivious Hunk Alert.] “Are there any issues that are particularly good to read? I love expanding my knowledge and this seems like a good place to start.” 

Okay, maybe he wasn’t off the list anymore. He’d moved up. “Well, March 2017, that was a really good one. Had a political article about Senator Nelson?” 

“Oh, the vampire that ran and won in Jersey.” 

Wade blinked at him. “Yeah, that guy. And then September 2012 was like, the biggest cross species collaboration ever. The whole thing was like five pounds. It was amazing. They had four different shifter designers showcased, a fae, and I think there were even a couple witches. Whole expose on how the nonhumans are viewed by the humans, and a lot of extremely talented people with their views on how to make the world more accepting. And editorial shoots to die for.” 

Steven nodded and pulled out a small notepad, writing down the issues that Wade said. Well, that made him feel like he was actually being listened to, and Wade couldn’t help it. He was a little smitten. 

Twenty minutes later, Wade was walking away with Steve’s number in his phone, as well as plans to get coffee one night. Steve was going to read the articles he’d suggested and they’d have a little book club on it. Wade was actually a little excited.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

Recap Notes:   
**Mingling Singles Edition, Chapter Five:** Bucky grumbled when he finally found Wades number in his old rolodex. Of course, Wade had been the one to fill in his own contact info, so Bucky had to try to decipher the chicken scratch that was his friend’s writing. “Is that a four? A nine? Damn it, Wade.” By the time he had managed to type in a number that led to a ringing tone, the vodka was almost gone and he was finally drunk. The small change in sound that meant someone had answered was all Bucky needed to start talking.

**Mingling Singles Edition, Chapter Nine:** “I met a nice fae once. Had the biggest tree house I’d ever seen and she made great Elven tea and crumpets."  
Steve could now tell that Peter was obviously upset. “Do you have anything to say about the fae woman that isn’t stereotypical? Something actually personal about her? Like her name, or what she looked like? Or did you just see that she was fae and didn’t look any further than that? People are more than just their species, Steve.”

_May 5, 2020_

No person could live as long as Steve had without being aware that things changed. Just look at the world outside! Electricity had revolutionized things, of course, but there were other changes that had come about. Humans no longer sold their women like cattle, at least not in as many places. Children no longer were maimed and twisted from work in inhumane conditions, again, not in so many places. These were amazing advancements in society, and he adapted to them well. Sometimes though, it was the smaller changes that were the hardest for him to adjust to. 

Society and its norms had shifted again, and he hadn’t noticed. His conversation with Peter had bothered him so much that he’d barely been able to sleep. He prided himself on his knowledge, on what he knew of other creatures and their rituals. The way that Peter had spoken, though, made him feel that he’d been looking at other creatures as less than himself. Dragons were older than any of the main species on the planet, and he wasn’t sure there was any single species that predated the dragons that hadn’t died with the dinosaurs. 

Being a member of the oldest species in existence didn’t mean he was inherently any better than any other species. At least, Steve certainly didn’t think so. But, to Peter, it had clearly seemed that he _did_ think that. And likely to many other people he’d spoken to, which was upsetting. So, he needed to educate himself. 

That was why he was at the library. Or, that would be the reason he would give anyone that was asking. It was true, and it was also nice enough to hide what he was actually doing. He’d looked up everything he could about the Carrick-a-Rede Rope Bridge in Northern Ireland, finding as many historical photos as he could. He was going to paint it for Bucky, since he’d sounded so fond of it. He deserved a reminder of it. Steve had seen the look in his icy blue eyes as they drank together. It was what had inspired him in the first place.They had met on incredibly convenient terms. Steve hadn’t mentioned it to Wade upon trading numbers the day before, but their phone numbers were almost exactly the same, down to a single number. The difference of a 4 and a 9. Steve didn’t often pray, but he surely knew when to be eternally grateful for his luck. In Buckys drunken state, he had failed to really explain how he’d misdialed Steve instead of Wade, but Steve wasn’t going to complain. He’d been blessed with Bucky’s presence, after all.

The man was… incredibly attractive. Bucky’s hair had looked soft and healthy where it was pulled back into a bun. He smelled of soap under the smell of alcohol, like he’d showered recently. Though, he clearly hadn’t shaved while doing so, because he still had stubble on his chin. He must not have a desk job, then. He’d been wearing schlepping clothes, sweats and a tee shirt, but they somehow still looked amazing on him. Like they were tailored to fit him specifically. Which was ridiculous, really. Who tailored sweatpants? 

But he couldn’t deny the appeal. They showed off strong thighs and a perfect ass, and his shirt clung to his abs. Though, his left arm was covered in scars, which was more than just odd on a shifter. It was unheard of; seemingly impossible. Some of them looked like burns, and some like straight white lines. Oddly enough, the uniqueness of it was attractive in and of itself as well. The man wasn't just an attractive body, but a soul with a story. 

That's not to say his body was at all forgotten by Steve. He’d never met an out of shape shifter, but Bucky brought it to another level. The man was delicious. Steve's mind started to wander to the skin color of Bucky's upper arm, his shoulder, his chest. Where did the unique scars meet up with the soft, toned skin that Bucky was sure to ha-

That was not something he should be thinking about in a public library. It was indecent. Steve corralled his thoughts and grabbed his large stack of materials to check out and then tuck into his saddlebags to bring home with him. 

In his apartment, he had a 15in x 36in canvas all set up. It was one of the ones that Tony had gotten him, which he honestly loved, but couldn’t get over the price hang up. These were high quality, name brand canvases; multiples in various sizes. They must have cost Tony a fortune. Didn’t the man understand gift limits? Steve wasn’t ill mannered enough to give them back, though, so he had to use them. Right now, he’d managed to capture a pretty good sky, dark because he was painting a night scene. Now, it was ready for him to rough in the shape of the land and the bridge.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO POST ON SATURDAY!  
> Sorrrrryyyyyyy
> 
> But hey, at least it's only a couple days until Wednesday, right? And if I can get my ass in gear and write oh... 30ish more chapters, we can start with daily posting. 
> 
> Oi, that's a lot.

_May 6, 2020_

Tony made his way down the stairs, whistling as he went. His monthly box of magazines should be ready to pick up, and he was ready for them. He waved to Rhodey as he passed the office, then stepped into the mail room. This time, though, he wasn’t so focused that he went right to his box. Instead, he was instantly pulled into a Sex God’s aura. The man had chiseled bone structure, clean shaven, and the prettiest ice blue eyes. His hair was long, but pulled back from his face in a tidy little bun. A soft looking grey sweater stretched across his fantastic chest and over the broad curves of his shoulders. Tony sort of wanted to peel it off with his teeth. And he had a big pair of feet sticking out of his well worn jeans, which just made him even more sure that doing that particular thing would be fantastic because big feet meant many things were big. He had forgotten how absolutely delicious Bucky was. 

“Hey, good lookin’. You want an electric ride on the Tony Pony?” Tony put on his best smile, making sure his eyebrow was in optimal leering position. 

That beautiful face, though, it sneered. “Oh, fuck off, witch.” 

The leer snapped right off his face. Now, he was glaring. “Fine. I wouldn’t want to play around with you anyway. That sweater is at least three seasons old. You look like a goth grandpa.” 

“Well, your giant box of magazines makes you look like a teenage girl.” 

“At least I wear shoes, you hobo!” There. Tony was sure that was a ringer. 

The man slammed his mailbox shut and started toward the door, roughly shouldering him aside. “Get out of my way, you off brand paint brush.” 

Tony gasped and put his hands on his hair, offended. As the door closed, he heard a soft snort and looked over. There was Peter. In a grey sweater, and no shoes. Tony groaned before yanking his magazine crate toward himself. In the back, behind all his magazines, was a butcher paper wrapped package. He felt it, and it was unmistakably a canvas. “Fucking great.” He grumbled more as he wrestled with the door, which Peter helpfully opened for him. Embarrassed, Tony mumbled a thank you and then made his way up the stairs. Obviously, leaving the apartment was a terrible idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this one is super short, but like... I promise they start getting longer soon enough. I don't remember when because, tbh, I kind of blew through writing like 15 chapters in a week and they're starting to blur.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole first chapter of the second to last (maybe??) section is written. :/

_May 6, 2020_

“And then Peter opened the door! It was like salt in the wound.” Tony yelled. 

Pepper had made soothing sounds through the whole story. Her overly dramatic friend had kept going, starting with his disastrous potions experiment and the never ending cycle of gifts to and from Steve. Things had been mostly manageable until he got to this morning, though. When he’d made a complete fool of himself in front of his neighbors. When he was finally done, she grabbed her purse and used it to smack him on the back of the head. “You need to apologize, Tony.” 

“Absolutely not. I’d rather just drive them away and start over with whoever moves in next.” Tony shook his head. 

Pepper pointed at him, pressing her magic into his skin as a sharp jab. He shouted and then glared at her as he rubbed his chest. “We’ll have you earn their forgiveness. We’re going shopping.” She stood up, smoothing her skirt suit down. 

Tony hadn’t moved, though. “Can’t we just do it online, Pep?”

“I _said_ we’re _going_ shopping, Tony. Now.” He grumbled, but eventually got up and pulled on his suit jacket. “It’s more personal, this way. We can feel what we’re buying. We can even pick up a new gift for Steve, to thank him for that lovely painting.” It was a skyline of New York at sunset. The buildings were dark, with light spots for windows. And the wonderful sky, of course. It was gorgeous, she honestly wouldn’t mind having one of her own. 

As they were in the cab, Tony looked out the window. “Maybe I can get Peter some plants. He’s always got a bunch in his apartment.” 

“No.” 

“Why not, Pepper? It’s perfect!” Tony smiled at her. “I’m sure he’ll love them.” 

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Because, it’s not thoughtful in the slightest. You already know he likes plants and you’re taking the easy way out. You need to buy something special and not obvious, something he doesn’t already have. It has to show that you’ve actually put thought into it.” 

He was silent for a few seconds, and Pepper had a small amount of hope that he was actually thinking deeply, and would offer up an even slightly usable gift idea. Those hopes were trashed when he opened his mouth. 

“I could get Bucky a pair of high end shoes. Gucci, maybe.” 

For a moment, Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. Then, she sent another jab of magic into his shoulder, only to be brought up short by the sound of their driver clearing his throat and pointing to a sign that said no magic. “I’m sorry.” Then, she glared at Tony, who was sticking his tongue out at her. “Tony, you can _not_ get the man you called a hobo for not wearing shoes, a pair of shoes. That wouldn’t be an apology, it would be you rubbing your insult in. Which would be rude and would mean I had to make your life hell.” 

Tony pouted, but he wasn’t thrown off for long. A list fell from his mouth, each of them more terrible than the last. “Gift cards? A bread basket! Enchanted wine?” 

“Tony, no. Those are terrible.” 

“Eternally charged batteries? Everyone always forgets to buy more batteries!” She smacked him and he stuck his tongue out again. “Heated blanket? Plane tickets to another country? Where hopefully they’ll both stay and I won’t have to worry about them again.” He continued after Pepper glared at him. “Good alcohol? Strippers? Sex toys? My sex tape?” He waggled his eyebrows and had her questioning their entire friendship. “A Sex ROBOT! I’m a genius.” 

The cab stopped and Pepper shoved him toward the door. “We can buy Steve a well made old shirt, first. And while we’re here, you’ll think of gifts that someone else might like to receive, and _not yourself_.” Her friend, thankfully, didn’t keep listing things off as they started looking for shirts.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late but I was diving into my newest obsession. Just got to finish writing this, then read enough fic until I decide I have to put my ideas out there. XD

_May 6, 2020_

Peter had felt awkward, seeing the way that Bucky had blown up at Tony and the way that Tony had just made the whole situation worse. Obviously, Tony couldn’t read the tension that had been radiating from Bucky when he walked in. It was awkward, but he had kept himself out of the line of fire, even when Bucky had gotten bothered enough that his eyes glowed while he left. He could only assume that Tony missed it because he was too busy trying to catch a peak at his ass. 

When he got upstairs to his own apartment, he’d looked down at himself. Was there something wrong with how he dressed? Peter understood that Tony had only lashed out because of his frustration, but he wouldn’t have said something about it if he didn’t actually think there was something wrong with it, right? He looked into his closet and found a bunch of sweaters, all of them too large for his frame. His jeans were all baggy because the last time he’d gone shopping was in the nineties and that had been the style. Sighing, Peter grabbed his keys and his wallet, then took off. 

By this point in his life, he’d had time to accrue some wealth, he wasn’t poor anymore. Peter would never understand spending money frivolously, though. He wasn’t against buying his clothes new, but he was going to exhaust the thrift stores first. 

At the second thrift store of the afternoon, he found himself staring at a particular shirt. It was black with a tangle of vines across the front that said ‘Back off!’ and he thought it looked like it would fit him the way the current fashions tended to require. The problem was that it was up on a rack that was much closer to the ceiling than Peter was ever likely to get. His left hand moved to tap at his right wrist, where he had an interesting bracelet. There was a large brown pouch, holding dirt, and a thin vine that came from it, wrapping around his wrist three times. If he was willing to, he could use his power to grow that vine, sending it up to grab that shirt and bring it back to him. The problem, however, was in doing so, he would be exposing himself as fae. Also there was no shrinking a plant once it had grown. He’d have to finish his shopping trip with a full sized vine wrapped around various parts of himself until he could get home and replant it somewhere it would be happy. Was this shirt worth all of that trouble?

Someone moved up beside him, and a hand holding a short metal stick moved into his peripheral vision. The stick extended and created claws to grab the hanger and bring it down, shrinking back down. “Thank you.” Peter took the shirt when it was offered to him. It smelled faintly of ozone, so the metal stick wasn’t strictly mechanical. When he turned, he found Tony standing there. This was likely to be the very last place he expected to see Tony. The man was always dressed in a very flattering way and quite a lot of it was extremely high quality. Even now, he was wearing something that Peter was sure had the highest thread count he’d ever been close to. Why was he in a thrift store?

“That’s a decent choice, but I’m sure you could find something with higher quality at Gucci.” 

Peter just blinked at him for a moment, before he nodded slowly and tucked the shirt against his chest, turning away from him. He felt himself shrinking into his oversized grey sweater, feeling awkward all over again. 

“Ow!” Tony’s shout had him turning again, watching the man rub the center of his chest as he glared across the store. “Hey! Wait, Peter.” 

Since Peter had manners, he didn’t immediately bolt to the checkout. He waited for Tony to approach him again. “Yes?” 

“I was just wondering if you’d agree to have coffee with me? As an apology? I sort of made an ass of myself in front of you today.” 

Peter tilted his head a moment, thinking about it. Really, Tony hadn't meant to call Peter out on his style choices. He had just done so by ridiculing Bucky's similar, much more well tailored version of it. A short outing together couldn't hurt. Didn't Peter owe it to him to swallow his sensitivity and let the man try to be kind? 

Eventually, Peter smiled gently and nodded. “Sure. I… I'll accept a coffee date” Tony, much to his vocalized dismay, waited for Peter to pay for the various clothes he'd already gathered before he took him next door to a nice coffee shop. Peter even let him pay for the drink. Call it an apology gift.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this week was bonkers so here, have two updates.

_May 8, 2020_

Bucky sipped his Coke and pointed his finger at his friend. “You. Are. Pathetic.” 

“I know.” Wade whined from where he lay inside his casket. His head rested on the pillow that was provided with it, though the Hello Kitty one he had purchased special was clutched in his fingers. He had one leg thrown out, knee bent over the side and foot resting flat on the floor. He looked even more ‘vampiric’ than usual, because he was wearing a black button up and black jeans he’d tailored himself, so they fit perfectly. It brought out how pale his skin was without overwhelming it, or the brown of his hair or eyes. “He’s just… He’s perfect, Bucks. Absolutely perfect.” 

Bucky licked his lips and then went to the entertainment center, pulling out the heavy wooden box beside the collectors editions of Golden Girls. He opened it and tossed a cigar and a box of matches toward his friend, saving a cigar for himself. “Is he perfect because he’s adorable or is he perfect because of something else?” Bucky kept his eyebrow up as he looked at his friend, not missing the way he avoided his eyes as he lit the cigar. He was content to wait as he took the matches from him and lit his own, then went to pour a small glass of whiskey for each of them. Tonight wasn’t about getting smashed, it was about relaxing with a friend. Finally, after he’d sat back down and Wade had sat up a bit more so he could smoke and sip his whiskey, his friend muttered something. “Sorry, I didn’t hear your dumb ass.” 

“I think he might be my Bonded.” 

Bucky looked at him for a moment, then nodded. “What’s a Bonded anyway? We’ve never really talked about it, and it’s not something most vamps would tell me about.” 

Wade took a deep breath and then sighed. “It’s fated, really. Working theory is it has to do with the Turn and the chemistry between the two people involved.” He twisted his cigar in his fingers for a moment. “If I’m right, he’s my only chance to have that connection. It’s not just about the Bond working, but what it brings.” 

Bucky raised his eyebrow. “Like, what? What does a Bond bring? I know a Mate would be a safe place for me, would give me a, well, an eye of the storm, so to speak.” 

“Kind of like that. It brings a huge measure of protection against the Sickness, but also it’s a balance. You know we tend to be… Yeah, I don’t know a nice way to say we’re fucking nuts.” Wade shrugged and sipped his whiskey again. 

“And you more than most.” Bucky said it with a little grin. 

“And me more than most.” Wade toasted him with the last of his whiskey before he drained the glass. 

Bucky smiled at his friend. Yeah, it was true, he was crazier than most, but he personally thought that had to do with the trenches and the fact that his friend was one of the brightest souls he’d ever met but he excelled at violence. It was a lot for anyone. Instead of getting into that sort of discussion, though, he needed to change the subject. As much as he wanted to reiterate for the six millionth time that he was a great person and it was okay for him to open up, it wasn’t the time. Wade was already feeling a little maudlin, as evidenced by the dark clothes and actually laying in the casket. So he changed the subject. “So there’s only one possible Bond for a vampire?” At his friend's nod, Bucky shrugged. “Not like that for us. Mates aren’t fated or bound to our souls or whatever. A Mate is kind of like a marriage.” 

“So that’s why you’re still a virgin?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes as he threw the remote at Wade, not surprised when the man caught it without even flinching and dropped it beside himself in the casket. “Very funny. And you know damn well I’m not a virgin.” After Wade’s giggles died down, he sighed and then got back to his point. “You choose your Mate, in a way. It’s someone that your more ‘human’ side can love, which isn’t super complicated because emotions are dumb as hell.” 

“Hear, hear.” Wade held up his refilled glass of whiskey in a toast. 

Holding his own glass up, he nodded in agreement. “But what makes it a Mating instead of just a relationship is that the more primal part of a shifter accepts the person, too.” At least he’d already had that discussion with Wade before, about the different ‘sides’ of themselves. They weren’t werewolves the way humans had used to think, humans afflicted with a disease. He was always a shifter, no matter his form. The same mind, the same soul. It was just that he had deeper primal urges than a human, and also, obviously, another form. “It’s almost deeper than loving someone because it’s… trust. It’s a complete and total trust in that person. You’ll always be safe with them and you don’t have to hide your hurts or worry about what they’ll do to you because they want to keep you safe as much as you want to keep them safe.” 

Wade got a dreamy look in his eyes. “I always want to keep Petey safe. But does he even need it? He’s just too dang cute to worry about. Who could hurt someone so dang cute?”

“I know” Bucky rolled his eyes, holding back his nausea. He wasn’t going to lay down that someone had obviously hurt Peter in the past, if the way he had reacted to his dark apartment was anything to go by. “So why do you think that Peter is your _Bonded_ and you’re not just disgustingly turned on by him?” 

Wade looked at him, at once manic looking and intent. “Well, you know the myth? Every vampire -”

Bucky threw up his hands, slopping the last of his whiskey over himself and the arm of Wade’s couch. “Yeah!” He did _not_ want to hear the disgustingly romantic story he’d heard with a gun clutched in his hands and mud seeping into his uniform, among _many_ other times. “Demon, lose your soul, find the bonded and get it back, yeah, I remember.” 

“Rude.” Wade pointed at him, seeming to encompass everything about him all in one sweep. Then, all in one go, the serious look on his face was replaced by a lovesick one. “I swear I can feel my soul in him, Buckeroo. It’s there, just waiting for me.” 

He wasn’t a romantic, not like Wade was. But that didn’t mean Bucky was heartless. Wade was clearly infatuated, and he decided right then and there that he was going to help him. “So what’s your plan, Long Tooth? How are you going to woo the little fae?” 

Wade sat up straight, ish, in the casket and rubbed his hands together. “Well, I’m already on phase two of the plan.” 

“What was the first part?” Bucky was skeptical. Yeah, Wade was a bit of a tactical genius, with battle and such. His romantic plans, though… those never turned out quite right. 

"Not the _first part,_ Buck, _phase one._ Come on. You had the same commander as me, man."

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes. "What was phase one?" Bucky's voice was overhyped and bland as he spoke. 

“Well, to get him to notice me.” Wade smiled widely. 

Bucky blinked. “What’s the whole plan? Lay it out for me.” 

Wade could clearly pick up on his skepticism, Bucky could see it on his face. The important thing, though, was that he entertained him. "Operation: Get Bubble Butt Bond Bang, previously Get Bubble Butt to Notice Me! Phase one, get him to notice me. Phase two, charm him. Phase three, super sexy bond banging. By Christmas. I already picked out our couples ugly sweaters."

For a long moment, Bucky stared at him. Finally, he stubbed his cigar all the way out, and threw back the last of his whiskey. "That's the stupidest fucking plan I've ever heard in my life." When Wade frowned, his sad little puppy dog eyes looking up at him, he threw his cigar bud at his head. "But don't worry. We'll get this figured out. Operation -" 

"OPERATION WHAT WOULD BUCKY DO!" Wade screamed and then slammed his glass on the ground, both of them looking at it afterward.

"Way to go, dumb ass."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I told you the chapters would start to get longer.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_May 10, 2020_

Tony was honestly pissed. He’d put all his laundry in the basket, just like he usually did. He paid extra for a magic basket, one that he didn’t even have to remember to take out and bring to the laundry service. When they activated their end, as they did every Saturday, his laundry showed up in their store and then they sent it back over. It was a perfect system!

A perfect system that didn’t freaking work this week. He’d opened up his closet, expecting to find the perfectly folded, heavenly smelling laundry he usually found. Instead, it was all his old dirty laundry. He’d called them and heard their message, which reminded him why he had planned to pay someone to come wash his clothes. But he’d forgotten. The laundry service was closed through Thursday for maintenance. 

And of course, he hadn’t noticed until he was down to literally nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. That was why, at four o'clock in the morning, he was squinting with red, overtired eyes at a text message from Pepper explaining all the steps to run a washing machine. “Okay, soap.” He had no idea what he was doing. It was a machine, which he was great with! But somehow this one seemed less than straightforward. Thankfully, he had quarters, which meant he had _’all that he needed,’_ Pepper had assured him. There was a little machine by the door that he could get all the washing materials from. “Packs? Or pouch? Or… powder? No, definitely not powder.” Too bad he couldn’t call Pepper and ask. Then she’d know that even though he’d asked for this advice at the perfectly reasonable time of three o'clock this afternoon, he was only actually doing the laundry now. He’d been distracted. 

“Packs for the win, broski. Way cooler, but don’t tell gen Z that.” Wade walked in, scaring Tony half to death because he was fucking silent until he was right next to him. “Tide Pod challenge. It will never age well.” 

“Um… Thanks.” Tony put his quarters in and then pressed the buttons, waiting for it to be dispensed. The little thing was squishy and he kind of wanted to play with it instead of putting it in his laundry, but he wouldn’t do that while Wade was here. He was vaguely aware of teens trying to eat laundry detergent, and he assumed that was what the Tide Pod Challenge he’d mentioned was. He really didn’t want to look even stupider than he did. He was a grown man wearing designer sandals and a bright red pair of basketball shorts. 

“No proberooni, friend.” Wade whistled as he dropped laundry into the machine next to Tony’s. At first, it was just a tune, but then Wade glanced over at him while Tony was dropping his own laundry in. Then it was a wolf whistle. “Looking good there, old man.” 

Tony tried not to preen. He didn’t work out, per se, but a lot of what he did was very physical, which kept him pretty trim. It was nice for someone to appreciate it for once. “Thanks.” 

Tony looked over and noticed that Wade’s dirty laundry basket was hardly full. Infact, what had to have been no more than two or three days worth of clothes was being tossed into the machine. Tony, an intellectual, could say with surety that no one could possibly enjoy doing laundry that much, especially in this murky hallway of a laundry room. Maybe it’s a sanguivore thing? Tony once read a study saying that less human species tended to like dark, quiet places. He’d have to look that up more later.

Then, unceremoniously breaking Tony out of his thoughts, Wade started to strip. And wow, okay. What he’d mistaken for black clothing was not, actually. Now that he was close, he could see that it was actually dark red, and the front of it was soaked. Tony didn’t realize what it was until Wade’s shirt didn’t drop cleanly into the drum, instead catching on the front of the machine just a little and leaving a rusty looking streak behind. 

Blood. 

The guy didn’t take any pains to hide it, so Tony knew he was a vampire. But… Vampires were not messy with their food. Besides that, there was the fact that most vampires nowadays only drank directly from people they were in relationships with, and otherwise tended to just use blood bags. Nose bleed? Could vampires even get nosebleeds? 

“Um.” Tony hadn’t really realized that Wade had been speaking the whole time until his word made Wade stop. Then, it was almost like when the ringing in your ears stopped. He blinked for a second, feeling like dizziness had just faded. “What the fuck did you do to get that much blood on you?” Tony was honestly proud of his professional - and polite! - tone. 

Wade stripped off his pants, leaving him with a pale, pink tinged chest and a pair of boxer briefs. Which, honestly, had him zoning out all over again. The band on them was black, and the legs were red. But the crotch? What was clearly right over the man's dick? A hot dog, in a bun, with ketchup and mustard. The man was also wearing socks. Green socks with yellow toes and heels. With tacos, dancing, all over them. Tony blinked at them for a second before he realized the toes were wiggling. “Like ‘em? I have some with pickles on ‘em, too.” When Tony looked up, the man was pleased with himself. 

Then, he reached into the machine, pulling out a different shirt and rubbing it across his chest before dropping it back in, cleaning up some of the mess. “The blood?” 

Apparently, that was enough. Wade launched into a story, an improbable one involving his cousin's pig farm and it being slaughter time, as well as a few well placed shots of tequila, and an orange penguin pillow. Tony sort of zoned out after a while, wondering how in the hell this guy thought any of that was even remotely plausible. Tony didn’t actually know when _slaughtering time_ was for pigs or otherwise, but it was currently spring and early summer which like, he knew enough about farming to know that that would usually be the time of planting and babies, right? Whatever, he wasn’t a farmer. So, he snorted. “Bullshit. What really happened?” 

Wade grew still in a way that had the hairs on the back of Tony’s neck rising. Then, he stepped close and the look in his eyes had Tony transfixed. His body couldn’t move, he could barely breathe even as he felt his heart racing in his chest. His mind, though, was going a mile a minute. This was why vampires had been hated for so long, even by other nonhumans. Something about being faced with a vampire like this, it reminded them all that they were looking at a predator and no matter how strong you thought you were, they viewed _you_ as the prey. Tony swallowed. “ _Don’t_ ask again.” As soon as Tony gave a curt nod, it was like all that power just evaporated. Suddenly, Wade was just a ridiculous man in an even more ridiculous outfit, a wide, manic smile on his face. “See you later, neighbor-eeni.” He twiddled his fingers at him as he left the room. 

Tony didn’t breathe until he choked on a shout as both machines clicked into action, startling him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come up with a few words, and when they are in a chapter, I'll try to update you guys at the end. 
> 
> Sanguivore - Blood eater. Taken from the Latin word for blood (sanguis) and combined with -vore (as in herbivore, carnivore, omnivore)
> 
> Also, this was one of my favorite chapters to write.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so behind on writing. Ange has been busy and can't kick me into gear. :[

_May 12, 2020_

Peter looked out at the sky, frowning a little. The forecast had assured that the day would be beautiful and sunny. Instead, though, the sky was full of sullen grey clouds, slowly drizzling rain. It was good for the plant life, and he couldn’t deny that a bit of rain cleaned the air of some of the stink of the city, but he’d finally gotten permission from Rhodey to work on the plants in front of the building. As in, he had gotten permission to put some there. Right now, it looked so dull and boring. Just the brownish red brick of the building and the ugly grey of the cement steps, with sad, empty brown dirt. Well, he supposed he could go buy some plants and bring them to his apartment. He’d be able to get them ready to go into the ground as soon as the weather was good for it. 

With that decided, he made sure he was carrying his cloth bag before he grabbed his small strolling cart and his umbrella. He had barely opened the door to the stairs when he heard a door behind him open and a giant smile spread on his face. He got it under control before he turned back, smiling at Wade. “Oh, hello, Wade. Were you going to go out today too?” 

“Oh, you know me. Those bright and cheery days suck donkey dick, so I always save all my going out for when the sky decides to piss on us.” Wade was wearing a hoodie, probably as insurance against a possible sun appearance, and a big pair of black rubber rain boots. 

Peter decided he couldn’t look down too much, because apparently this wasn’t a sweatpants kind of day for Wade. He was wearing jeans, dark blue, and they hugged his thighs perfectly, almost like they were tailored to him. It made Peter feel a little too warm. “Well, I know that's not true. You were out yesterday with Bucky.” 

Wade shrugged and held the door open for Peter as they got outside. Then, Peter was trying to get his umbrella open, since the thing was always a little sticky. He had it aimed at Wade, intending on hitting him in the stomach with it when it finally got open. Unfortunately, the man moved at the last second, offering to take his cart from him. It meant that when the damn umbrella finally popped open, it slammed directly into Wade’s crotch. A small, whining, high pitched sort of nose came out of him. “Oh, Wade! Are you okay? I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that at all!” He had meant to hit him with it, just not _there_. 

“Yeah, no, it’s totally okay.” Wade’s voice was not even close to normal. It was at least three times rougher and an octave higher. “I wasn’t planning on using that for the next few weeks anyway. What’s an exploded testicle between friends?” 

He looked at him for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t think it was that bad. You’re just exaggerating.” 

The man smiled and the two continued walking, though there was still a bit of pain around Wade’s eyes. “You know me already, Petey-cakes. We truly are a match made in heaven.”

“Do vampires believe in heaven?” Peter had never asked before, it seemed rude, but Wade was always so open about things. It couldn’t be too bad to ask him, right?

He didn’t look offended, though he looked like he was thinking about it. “I mean, I don’t think I can give a _cultural_ answer. We started out as humans, so I guess it’s pretty individual. I don’t think that _I_ do. Or, at least, I _hope_ it doesn’t exist.” 

For a moment, Peter was tempted to stop them from walking down the street and hold the man. There was something so deep and bottomless in his eyes when he said that, and Peter could see it even though Wade wasn’t even looking at him. He wanted to know that, see what made him not want heaven to exist. Was it because he didn’t want someone to go there? Or because if he believed in it, he knew he wouldn’t go? It was a conundrum that had Peter more than interested. 

Just then, they walked by a man with a red umbrella. Just the way he looked at the two of them had him bristling. His anger was focused on Wade, though, Peter knew that even before the man spoke. “Go back to the graveyard, leech.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Peter going to take that? Is Wade going to dismember Mr Red Umbrella? Stay tuned to find out!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_May 12, 2020_

The moment Wade had seen Peter leaving the apartment, he’d pulled on his sweater, fully prepared to follow him wherever he went. And it had turned out great, aside from tasting his own nutsack in the back of this throat, until the guy with the red umbrella. Wade had planned to just leave it be, ignore him or trip him, or maybe pull the knife out of the back of his jeans and stab him in his ugly human throat. 

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t actually figured out where he was going with this. [I liked the last plan but whatever] (He deserves it. MAHA can go fuck themselvs.)

The choice was taken from him, though. 

Before he’d even spared more than half a second for it, Peter’s umbrella was shoved into his hands and he was stalking toward the man. Honestly, that would have been hot enough, (People don’t defend us enough.) but then the man practically started glowing. The glamour around him fell back, making his hair shine like sun through a glass of whiskey, and his skin was almost translucent, showing power underneath. 

Wade, honestly, wasn’t paying attention to whatever Peter or the red umbrella man were saying to each other. He only barely registered that he could see trees and plants leaning and reaching toward the two. When Peter turned, he could see his eyes, glowing like perfectly cut jewels. He was absolutely stunning. The voices in his head were singing the Hallelujah Chorus, just as he’d once heard in a cathedral. [Daw, you’re so sweet] (I hummed)

The glamour came back in stages after the plants were calmed. His skin took on more human tones and his eyes died down. His hair was just brown with a hint of golden and red in it. But Wade? Yeah, Wade was gone. He knew it. There was no getting back from it. He was pretty sure he was going to be walking around with dried cum in his jeans because it’s entirely possible that he just came from the sight alone. 

“Have my babies.” Wade hadn’t noticed that Peter looked worried until his face slipped into amused confusion. “Wait. Shit. Are you into that? Can I have your babies? I swear, I am okay with either. Whatever makes you happy." (No mpreg here.) [This is a wholesome trainwreck, thank you.] (Trainwreck, yes. Wholesome? With the good ol’ Merc? Nah)

Peter laughed and came closer, accepting his umbrella back from Wade with a gentle graze of his fingers. “I don’t think that’s really how that works.” 

Wade couldn’t help staring at him as he realized that that wasn’t actually an answer. Well, it wasn’t a _no_ at least. Maybe he had a chance? How couldn’t he when Peter was looking at him through his eyelashes, all sweet and sexy? Wade cleared his throat, internally preening. “So, where are we headed, my delightful, gorgeously fine and kick-my-ass-powerful Fae God?” [Old men, in their natural habitat. Tony is literally the only baby.] (Cute wee bab Tonyyy)

Peter giggled and seemed to play along, swaying his umbrella like a sweet dame. “Well, good sir, I was headed to the market to fetch some shrubbery, to build the homestead's aesthetic. Care to join me?” (What a handsome dandy.)

The rest of the trip was uneventful, but pleasant all the same. Wade followed along everywhere Peter went, got a few handfuls [eyefulls?] (Could have been both) of juicy Petey-pie ass, just as planned. He was a real gentleman too, holding doors open and carrying the bags that didn't fit in the tall shopping cart/wheelbarrow cartmobob Peter was dragging around. And when they got back to the apartments, Peter even invited Wade inside and showed him how to transfer the bigger plants into these nice big pots. It was a lot like that Ghost movie? There he was, behind him, moving his hands as Wade gripped that tiny little plant thing. Wade definitely felt a hard on, so he turned to him -

"Bullshit." 

Wade stopped his recap of earlier to look at Bucky. "What's the problemo, Buckykins? I was just getting to the good parts!" 

Bucky was sitting at his desk, now faced away from the multilingual mess on his desktop computer. "Peter did not ‘Ghost’ you." 

Wade threw some popcorn in his mouth and slouched back into Bucky's living room armchair. "It's _my_ faulty memory, Buck. He did whatever my memory says he did. And right now, it says that he was giving some seriously hot _you aren't a racist piece of shit_ vibes." 

"Uh huh. Well, you got the 'not racist' bit of it down. The other part…" Bucky trailed off, turning back to his work. (Well…)

"Now what _exactly_ is that supposed to mean?" 

Bucky continued to ignore Wade as he stared and typed away, unjumbling some mess of words from what appeared to be three different clients in a group chat. Wade's eyes roamed the screen from over Bucky's shoulder, and while his Russian was a bit rusty [ha, get it?] he managed to catch some of the French, and definitely the English bit regarding a ‘no species based discrimination policy’. Wade rolled his eyes and groaned, flopping his head against the back of his chair. "Bucky, pay attention to me! You don't get paid enough for this stressful shit. I think your hair might even be going grey-" Wade was cut off by a growl. Bucky was always sensitive about his age. All Wade knows? Bucky is older than him, and probably by a lot. 

"I don't have _grey hair_ , and I get paid way more than you do as a _dress maker_.”

Wade grasped his motionless heart with a gasp. "You know I don't just ‘make dresses,’ Bucky. I tailor designer outfits to fit like a second skin! And you should be _thanking_ me. If it wasn't for my skill, Tony wouldn’t notice your phenomenal ass _half_ as many times as he does." 

"My ass gets plenty of attention on its own. Unlike yours. Even with your fancy clothes, that little bird won't even give _yours_ a gla-" Bucky's words were cut off by a dangerous snarl. [Highway to the danger zone] Bucky let his hand skip from the keyboard and a growl if his own came out, deeper, but just as fierce as the prior. 

To an outsider, this might seem relatively terrifying, two "man eaters" (RACIST SLUR ALERT) [He’s quoting. It’s not our fault people are stupid.] (But shifters never even ate humans! It’s a myth.) snarling and showing their tempers off, but to Wade, and he hoped to Bucky as well, this was just a couple dogs showing their teeth. It's normal. It had to be, right? Nothing actually violent or mean, or even emotional. The occasional nip to his own throat from a man of his own caliber was actually comforting, in a way. It reminded him that when his nature got the better of him, he had a strong friend at his back, keeping him in check. 

Wade stared at his friend for several moments longer before self soothing his ruffled feathers and swinging his head back, much like a stubborn kid. "Shut it. Pete is just shy, that's all…" 

"Shy, traumatized, oblivious, [is Peter the embodiment of me?](If so, i wanna be Wade.) not that into you, there are lots of words for it." 

Wade sighed heavily, filtering out the voices and focusing on Bucky’s bullshit. "Of course he's into me! If he wasn't then why would he have jumped to defend me against Asshole earlier? Huh?" His heart still fluttered to think about it. Or maybe it was his dick, since he didn’t actually have a heartbeat. (Can vampires even get hard ons then?) [Continuity error alert.] (It’s magic, shut up.)

Bucky got up and headed for the kitchen, giving Wade a small shrug as he passed. "Maybe he's an activist? Seems that fae nowadays are often the progressive type. Always kinda were, really. As much as one can be while hiding in forests, anyway." Wade heard Bucky set up the tea kettle before heading back over. He was grateful, actually. With his nerves all wired up as they were, his fangs might not recede for hours. He ran his tongue over them, thinking about how the hot liquid would soothe them until he could get a hold of some more blood bags. 

"I'm patient. If I can win over an entire squad of Pseudo-Nazis in the middle of a war, I can win me a Petey Pie." (Do we have to tell that whole side story though?)[No… let it fester.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely chipping away at the last chapters. 24 more to go.
> 
> PS - Anyone interested in being a beta? The job would entail checking over for continuity, basic grammar checks, kicking my ass into gear so I actually fucking write, and listening to my random spouting of ideas, memes, and bitchfests. If interested, leave an email address (if you're a cautious sort) or a skype/discord name to contact you at.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_May 14, 2020_

Bucky sat in his apartment, the volume on his TV turned as low as he could while still being able to hear it. Wade would never let him live it down if he knew that Bucky was in his apartment, watching the Golden Girls. His friend had been obsessive about it when it came out, and when the collection came to DVD, he’d preordered it the day it was announced. Bucky… Yeah, Bucky had waited a few days, but he’d ordered it, too. 

A sound from his right, one that wasn’t from the Girls, had him silently snapping to attention. It came from the hall, toward the bathroom. Bucky leaned forward, not making a single sound. Something was there, he saw just a hint of movement. 

Bucky jumped out of his seat and over the side of the couch, one of many hidden knives already unsheathed and in hand. He hadn't lived this long by waiting for someone to hit him first, and he wasn't easy to sneak up on. He had the training, the grit, and he damn well had the ability to protect himself, even with the lights low and space small. As Bucky rounded the corner, he took in a figure dashing towards the front door. He growled, moving forward, ready to attack and restrain, and unabashedly ready to kill, should whoever this was be skilled enough to really threaten Bucky's well being. 

“Wait! Did Blanche just say she wouldn’t sleep with him tonight?” 

“What?” Confused and disgracefully distracted by the unlikely comment, Bucky turned back to the TV. The sound of something glass moving across wood had him whipping his head back around, even more frustrated than before. He lunged, his knife held blade down so he could swipe with it. 

With an armed hand in the air and teeth bared, he bent his knees, ready to pounce, and... 

He froze. The tension quickly, fleetingly... bled out of his body. The image of Tony standing and staring at him, eyes wide and afraid, while he had his hand on that ugly music box, slowly left his mind. 

It was like his will of iron had gone molten, slowly oozing and flowing away, taking his resolve and his entire order of operation with it. He fought it as efficiently as he could. His training only helped so much. His will only held for so long. 

He no longer knew what he was looking at… where he was... What was the task again? 

**Attack.**

Attack… What? Who? Where? ...Why?

**ATTACK.**

**Angry. Invaded. Caged. Get out. Attack.**

_Calm… Traumatic response… is irrational… Assess before action… Learned behavior before instinct... Patience._

**DANGER.**

_Calm._

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Blinking, Bucky looked down. Why was he by the front door? And why did he have his knife out? Bucky squinted, trying to remember when exactly he had gotten up and pulled his blade out. He looked over to his small pile of mail, sitting by the ugly music box. No. This knife was the one that he usually hid within the side of the couch. It's not exactly the most efficient or appropriate choice to open envelopes. This was more of a combat knife. 

Glancing back, he suddenly saw the title screen on his DVD. “Whoa, did I just zone out an entire episode of Golden Girls?” He shook his head, shrugging off the tension in his shoulders. Must have been a trauma blackout. He hasn't had one in quite a while, but the therapist says they could happen again at any time. 

"'Roll with the punches,' Sam says. 'Assess before you attack,' Sam says. 'Calmness and Patience are a virtue,' and blah blah, psychoanalysis bullshit." Bucky sighs, settling back into his usual spot on the couch. "At least I didn't wreck the place this time." 

Taking one more look around and feeling adequately comfortable with his surroundings, he started the episode again, continuing on with his secret TV marathon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, still 24 to go because I'm a lame-o


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 23.5 to go! Kind of!

_May 15, 2020_

Tony had a glass of whiskey in his hands, his eyes unfocused as he looked out the window. Last weekend with Wade in the laundry room had been pretty scary. He was a badass witch, damnit, and as such, he wasn't often heavily intimidated. Quite frankly, he didn’t like feeling scared, if on nothing but principal. But last night? That had been more than scary. He’d been downright terrified. Bucky was... The man was a force. Hot as hell, but also brick-shittingly terrifying. Tony had accidentally scraped the door and… 

_The only warning was the continued quiet, the lack of response. Tony honestly had thought Bucky was asleep and he was in the clear… And then Bucky was leaping, **actually leaping,** over the side of the couch. In no more than an instant, he was combat ready and closing in. A knife came out of nowhere, and he was so comfortable with it, so confident in it's usage, it looked like an extension of the man's own soul._

Tony shook his head to dispel the slight tremor in his hands. It was a good thing he was as powerful as he was, because he wasn't sure he'd have survived if he wasn't. It had taken ages for the magic to take Bucky and calm him. 

_Fangs out, looking somehow wrong and right at the same time in his handsome face, Bucky stood there, panting and growling quiet and low. The grip on his knife wavered at times, but he never dropped it. Like this, tall and buff and ready for battle in all his glory, Bucky looked absolutely wynorrific._

_Tony had almost pissed himself, but couldn't bring himself to leave until he saw this play out. If his magic failed, he had to be here for it. He had to know exactly what went wrong. Captain going down with the ship and all that. Maybe if he managed to live, he could fix it. He’d have to fix something at least. Bucky's eyes were still, even after a minute and a half, an ominous red, and it was clear he had been, and still was ready to kill, despite probably having no idea what was happening anymore. God, could he even see or hear at this point?_

_Tony knew he'd spelled his objects strongly, but it took forever for the glow in Bucky's eyes to die down, for the fangs to retract and his muscles to relax. It almost seemed to happen in waves, like he was actively still in his own head, fighting off the magic and, thank everything magical and good, he seemed to be losing, more and more as the seconds ticked by with Tony's hands clutching the charmed box close._

_As soon as Bucky looked mostly normal once more, Tony took one more too long for comfort glance, absorbing as much information as his adrenaline filled mind could process. Then, because he was newly a witch with a very reasonable fear of death, he set the box down by the front door and bolted into the bathroom again, through his portal and back home._

It was a good thing that what he had going on in his mechanical magic room wasn't time sensitive. He'd probably take a while to get back in there. He needed to be able to go in there calm, not shaking in his boots. He took a glance at the door he'd fallen through the night before. 

_Tony's knees hit the floor of his own apartment, and as soon as the door was shut and the portal closed, he collapsed further, leaning back against the hollow wood, gasping like a fish out of water. He dragged his hands across his face and through his hair a couple times, counting his breaths. After a few minutes, much too long to call himself a brave witch, surely, he managed to take one more big heave of a breath, feeling relatively calm and unusually exhausted._

_"God, I'm young for a Witch, but I am entirely too old for this shit."_

So, now, he was drinking, and thinking. Before, he’d sort of thought that Bucky was just a particularly fit human - the term was swole, right? Clearly, he wasn’t, not with the fangs and the glowing eyes. Plenty of species had eyes that glowed, like fae and shifters and vampires. Bucky wasn’t a vampire, since he could go out into the sun with none of the protections Wade was usually seen with. Fae, though, weren’t usually so aggressive. They could be violent, yes, but they didn’t tend to switch from relaxed to ready to attack so quickly. So he had to be a shifter. That didn’t make sense, though, because of the scarring on his arm. He’d seen it on his hand before, but the damage was a lot more intense than that. It stretched up his arm, disappearing into the tee shirt he’d been wearing. Shifters healed far too perfectly for scarring of any kind, never mind the deep and colorful kind that Bucky had. The man was a conundrum. A scary, sexy conundrum. 

Tony hadn’t even been able to completely finish his glass of whiskey when the door to his apartment opened. “Mr Rhodes, sir.” 

“Thanks, Jarvis, let him know I’m in here.” Tony had torn apart the floor as soon as he took it all over. The walls were more suggestions now, only half as tall as they had been except where they were load bearing and so needed to be full sized. Still, the amount of stuff he had all around made it hard for most people to find him. That’s where his Elemental came in very handy. Jarvis was a rare metal Elemental, looking like nothing so much as a spill of mercury hanging in the air about head height. His voice, though, was pleasant. Thankfully, his friends were more than used to it. 

Of course Rhodey would be here today, when he was halfway through the process of moving all of his doors. When his friend and landlord came in, he was not so subtly looking around at everything he could. The man came up periodically to look around and make sure Tony wasn’t up to anything too dangerous or illegal. He had needed to be convinced to let Tony slowly buy all the apartments on this floor, but Tony hadn’t been able to get him to go along with more apartments on the next floor down. Which is why it was extremely important that the man never found out about his extra rooms. “Oh, Shnookums. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He offered his man a glass of his own. 

“Tony.” He accepted the glass and looked around some more. “What’s up with the doors over there?” 

Tony blinked innocently at him. “Doors?” He’d forgotten the cloaking spell. Damn it. 

Rhodey moved over to the first door, the one that would open into Steve’s spare room, his alchemy room. Tony pretended to be relaxed, sipping his whiskey as he watched, but he breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t open. At least he’d managed to remember to lock it. He watched as his friend ran his fingers across the wood, writing a few glyphs. “Dimension doors? What’s behind them?” 

“Oh, Honey Bear! I’ve just got some sprites locked away so they stay where I need them. That’s all.” Tony smiled brilliantly and then launched into a new story, about the newest tattoo he was going to get. It was going to be one that allowed him to emit light when activated, and he was planning on putting it right in the middle of his chest.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.   
> Woops.   
> I'm so sorry .  
> I was an actual dick this week.   
> So sorry.   
> I promise I'll make it up to you.

_May 16, 2020_

Tony locked his front door behind him and started making his way down the apartment complex steps. It was, unfortunately, time to go shopping, _in person_. He needed some spell ingredients, and he couldn’t trust someone else to buy those for him. His preferred market was fairly close, so he got in the car and made his way over. In the produce section, he walked around. This part, he wasn’t so great at. He couldn’t tell a ripe tomato from an underripe one unless it was still green. And then he only knew it wasn’t a tomatillo because it didn’t have that weird little paper pouch thing. He just needed to get some fruit together to make wine. 

And when the wine was ready, he’d be giving it to Bucky. It should make him nicer to him, a little less aggressive. Which would be good for when he ran into him and hopefully a hell of a lot better when he was in his apartment. He did _not_ want a repeat of the other day. No way in hell. 

Wait. Wine had to ferment for a year. “Shit.” Tony ran his fingers over his brows and then shook his head and rolled his neck. “Alright, new plan. I can totally knit him a sweater. Make him relax when he’s wearing it... Which he won’t for the same reason I wasn’t supposed to buy him shoes. It’s insulting. Damn it, Tony, get it together.” He strolled through the berries section, trying to think up another gift. “Pie? Probably not. Pie spells are complete shit if you can’t get the sugar ratio right. Plus if he doesn’t like pie, he might not even eat it. Do most grown men even like pie?” He couldn’t think of anything after that, really. He wasn’t in a good enough way with him for him to trust anything Tony gave him. 

“Food works but it would have to be something that I could insist he have even if he doesn’t really want it. Something he might even eat more of, just for the sake of it not going bad. Or something I can invite him over to eat with me, maybe? The eyes of expectation are a powerful motivator.” Tony went through his repertoire. It was hard for him to lay his spells on food that was already prepared, so he had to do it all himself. Which was fine, he was good enough at it. Except that when he was cooking, he usually had Pepper pick out his fruits and vegetables and meats. His spice work was spot on but the rest of it was not where it needed to be. 

He’d just placed the last of his vegetables in his basket when he turned right into a warm brick wall. “Tony.” The brick wall rumbled. 

Tony stepped back and was able to see that it was Steve. “Oh, hey, Steve.” 

Steve smiled at him and then looked into the basket. A look of horror moved across his face before it was masked in a polite smile. “Vegetables. Looks… like you’re planning to eat a lot of it. Today.” 

“Uh.. What?” Tony looked into his basket. He wasn’t going to be able to cook it today, why would Steve think he was? “No, I’m making lasagna tomorrow.” 

Before he knew it, Tony was losing hold of his basket and all of the vegetables he’d picked up were placed back where they came from. It was amusing to watch Steve tuck them all in the back like an offended cat. He wouldn’t be surprised if he growled at it. “Now, we’re ready to properly shop.” He moved over to the zucchini. Grabbing two, showed them to Tony. “Now, which would you choose?” Tony pointed to the larger one. “No.” When Tony lifted his brow, clearly confused, Steve smiled a little. “When they’re too long, they’re a little too ripe. You want them about this size, and you have to make sure they’re not damaged. Feel it gently.” 

Tony took the zucchini and did as he was told. When he found a soft spot, he made a face. “This is gross.” 

“Exactly.” Steve chuckled and handed him a new one. “If it’s a good zucchini, it’ll _feel_ like a good one.” 

They went through the rest of the vegetables on his list, Steve sharing his knowledge on how to choose produce properly. Properly firm tomatoes, perfect onions. Tony was honestly enjoying himself, so he didn’t mind when Steve led him all over the place, packing his basket with things that he did not need to make lasagna. The way the man described them and the tastes, though, Tony decided he wanted more than he’d intended. He was going to make a giant salad. And maybe a fruit pizza. 

“Well, thanks, Steve. I think I’m all good now.” He’d had to transfer to a cart, and the produce was taking over all of the top half. The larger bottom rack only had one thing in it that he needed for an entirely different spell. 

“What in the hell is that?” Both of them turned, Steve much more smoothly than Tony, seeing as he didn’t jump a foot in the air, and there was the man himself. Bucky, in all his 6”0’ glory, once again, wearing a sweater and jeans that had to be, _had_ to be tailored to fit his pecs so swel- _well_. So well. Tony followed his line of sight to find he was staring in horror at the bottom basket of the cart, the fresh cut of cows tongue. Tony sighed as he put his hand to his face. This was going to be a long day.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **(NOT COMPATIBLE WITH MEANINGFUL MAGIC EDITION)**
> 
> The usage of this plot device, as well as those used alongside it, is intended to encourage joy, laughter, and a mild to moderate level of regular cringing (both internal and external). If you experience any of the following: wet eyes, sore throat, psychological triggers not forewarned, suicidal thoughts, stomach pain elicited from laughing, parental/authoritarian punishment due to interrupting class with aforementioned laughter, etc. or otherwise, please drop a comment to let the authors know. (and/or contact a doctor for more serious symptoms) 
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated.

_May 17, 2020_

“What in the hell is that?” Steve turned to look at Bucky when he got close. Suddenly, his whole day was looking pretty bright. Both the gorgeous witch and the stunning wolf shifter, together. Perfect. Though, he couldn’t help wishing there were fewer clothes. As nice as they both looked, he was very certain they’d look even better without any of the clothes on at all. 

Tony looked defensive. “I need it.” 

Bucky reached into the cart, pulling it out and then waving it like he’d just found illegal contraband. “A cow tongue? Really? I hope it’s some spell shit because no one should be eating this.” He dropped it back into the cart, but Steve could hear him muttering about how cow tongue couldn’t be a supermarket buy. It wasn’t sanitary. 

Steve had decided early on that he was going to court Tony. The man was interesting and attractive. He loved his sass. But there was Bucky, too, who was also amazing. He was interested in his history and he loved his backtalk, too. 

“-on 8th Ave, Butcher and Banker. They got everything. Even this shit-”

There was probably something wrong with him, considering his interest in such snarky men, but he had long since come to terms with his oddities. Maybe he could convince them to join him in a three way relationship? It wasn’t like it was uncommon, not for his particular species. Multiple partners were widely accepted in the older communities, sometimes even more so than single partners. He had always sort of assumed he was going to be in the minority and prefer a single partner, but not if he could get these two. Now he understood the choice in a much more real sense. 

“-etting cut open, stuffed with notebook paper, sewn up, and _buried_ , Bucky. It doesn’t have to be that fancy, and that’s coming from the rich guy.” 

“Oh, Mr Rich Witch.” Bucky snorted. “If you can afford the nice shit, why are you looking at a _tube_ of ground beef?” 

Tony snorted. “It’s beef, man. It’s fine.” 

Bucky’s eyes widened in horror. “Excuse me? That isn’t a spell ingredient?” He reached out and slapped Tony’s hand, making him drop the tube back into the cooler. Tony gasped, and Steve could see the internal struggle of a rich child having his thousand dollar cookie taken away, as if it hadn’t ever happened before and he didn’t know how to respond. _Adorable_. Simply the cutest thing Steve had ever witnessed. 

“No. First off, do you know how dicey it is to even buy pre ground meat? That little thing on there, the percentages? Those are true up to at the time of grinding, they don’t say anything about what was added to it after it was ground. You could easily be buying half fat.” He kept slapping Tony’s hands as he grabbed for different things. 

Finally, Tony had enough of it. “Fine, then. What am I supposed to be doing?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” Bucky pulled the cart behind him, effectively moving the three of them without having to lay a finger on anyone at all. And damn, did Steve ever love a man who could take control of a situation with such ease. 

They ended up in front of the meat counter. “You pick a cut and then you have them grind it for you.” Tony, bless him, was looking both irritated and intrigued as Bucky started pointing out cuts to the man behind the counter. “And I’d like a good handful of the T-bone’s, please.” God, these two were amazing. Absolutely stunning together. He didn’t quite understand the tension between them, why they insisted on arguing the way they did, but he was more than happy to lay it all at the feet of unresolved sexual tension. 

Now, there was a mental picture he should not be dwelling on in public. 

Of course, being in that sort of a relationship wasn’t something he’d be able to decide on his own. He needed to know what these two men were interested in, or he’d be a cheating scumbag. There was a good chance, though. Tony was younger, much younger. As a witch, he’d live another century or two. Tradition didn’t seem to be so much as a blip on his radar of importance. Bucky was older, and would likely understand the idea better than Tony would. Tony was, however, a scientist at heart. Steve had quickly learned that Tony was open to trying just about anything if the possible result sounded appealing. There was a chance that it could all work out, but he’d have to work his way through it, carefully and diligently. 

“-too much work! If I bought meat like this all the time I would never get anything done at home. Are you like this with everything or are you just a meat connoisseur or some shit?”

Now, if the worst happened, the worst being the most likely, and they didn’t agree to the poly concept, what would he do? He’d already decided to court Tony, so he couldn’t change his mind. But if he chose Tony over Bucky, would he still be able to give Bucky the painting? He’d just finished it. It had taken a lot of work and time to get it just how he wanted it. He could always sell it at auction... Steve knew that it would go for eight thousand easily, substantially more if he actually announced it ahead of time. But was that really what he wanted to do with it? Couldn’t he just give it to Bucky as a friendly gift? He might need a cold shower any time he saw it hanging in Bucky’s place, but it would be in the arms of the man it was literally created for. 

Zoning back into the conversation, Steve realized that Tony kept staring at Bucky’s left hand. That was where all the scarring was. Bucky, somehow, carried on snarking at him all the same. He had to have noticed, right? Just then, Bucky tucked his left hand into his pocket. It was so casual, so easily missable, but Steve caught it. That wasn’t an accident, and that made Steve cringe, just a bit. Bucky must be used to the staring by now. He had never told Steve his age exactly, but the man’s backstory was so obviously old and worn, Steve could feel the longevity of the man radiate like a wave every time he spoke. Not to mention the drunken story of having visited the Caves of Mortals. Steve had loved that story, the detail Bucky had used when describing the ancient site was incredible. He clearly had a wonderful mind, taking in detail and being able to recount them so exactly that Steve could see it in his mind. He had added it to his list of places to visit, but upon searching it up, Steve found that it had been closed off to the public, with no access beyond the mouth of the cave, for nearly 175 years due to a landslide, making entry impossible. The rubble wasn’t even salvageable. Eventually it was decided that the mouth could be toured and marked as historical ground. It has remained that way ever since. A fancy gift shop, rather than the magical gathering spot the early humans had once used to pray and worship.

“Sure, I can show you.” 

Steve blinked as he was brought back to the present. Bucky was showing Tony something? Something else in the store?

Bucky tilted his head, his hand still casually in his pocket. “Do you have a nicely seasoned cast iron?” Steve glanced between the two, desperately hoping to get back on track with the conversation. He must have missed something important. 

“I can have one delivered by tonight.” Tony was already scrolling through his phone. 

Bucky had the decency not to slap _that_ out of his hand, instead pushing it down. “No, Tony, that’s not how it works. A good cast iron skillet takes at least a year to season properly. You can’t just cook a t-bone on a new cast iron skillet. I’ll just bring my own.” 

Oh God, he missed something important, alright. Bucky was going to go to Tony’s house and teach him how to cook a steak. Steve was going to die if he missed that. “You know, a salad is much more of a culinary masterpiece than people think. It has to be handled properly. I should probably come over and help, as well.” Steve hadn’t even planned that, the words just popped out. If Tony and Bucky were going to be spending time together, he was going to go with. He _needed_ to be there. “I can even bring ingredients for my family's centuries old pepper vinaigrette recipe.” 

Tony glanced towards Steve, looking a little breathless. "Yeah... Yeah, okay. Sure. Dinner at my place then!" The more Tony spoke, the more Steve could see his resolve harden, his confidence in the situation build. It was like the surety and confidence of his own voice was his motivator to take better control of his worries. A smooth glance towards Bucky revealed an expression Steve hadn't seen there before; a gentle, soft smile, directed right at Tony. Despite the arguing and the obvious hesitation to befriend Tony, Bucky had already bonded with the man. 

And how could he not? How could any of them not bond over how well they fit together? Tony's thirst for knowledge despite his insecurities. Bucky's obvious appreciation for being listened to and having his opinion be valued. Even Steve's own openness to trying new things and to learning and teaching wherever he was heard. Not to mention the fact that Steve would worship the ground these two men walked on. Hell, he already sort of did. 

There really couldn't be a more perfect set up. 

Now all Steve had to do was get the two men before him on board.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Drop us a comment, we love hearing from you!


End file.
